


Accidents and Fate

by LostMyWit



Series: Arijon short fics [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fallout, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Caesar's Legion, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, First Meetings, Kidnapping, Mojave Wasteland (Fallout), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyWit/pseuds/LostMyWit
Summary: Prequel to ‘Side by Side, Under the Mojave Sky’In which a band of legion slavers pick a fight with the wrong wastelanders.





	Accidents and Fate

  
The first sensation that he felt when he woke up was the splitting pain in his head. After that, it was the realization that he was tied up.

All in all, not a great way to wake up. He’d had worse, but still.

He opened his eyes slowly. The light was soft. _I’m in a house_ , he realized. He raised his head groggily.

The floor was dirty. The walls were barren. Then he saw her.

She was tied up, like him. She looked like she was asleep. Her arms were bound in front of her, same for the ankles. She wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, and her curly black hair was tied back out of her beautiful, suntanned, wind burnt, face.

He sat up, and the pain surged through his head again. He touched the side of it tenderly. There was a bump, and dried blood.

He checked the room again. He saw one door, one window, boarded, and nothing else was there except him and the woman. From the walls and the shape of the room, it was probably a trailer, or an old mobile home. Which meant he could be anywhere. 

He called out softly. “Hey! Ma’am! Hey!”

The woman stirred. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, and he saw they were just the richest shade of deep brown that he’d ever seen. She flashed him a crooked smile.

“Damn, I half expected you to never wake up,” she said. “Those fuckers hit you pretty hard.”

“Who?”

Even in the dim light, he could see her roll her eyes. “The legionary bastards that brought you in. They hit you that hard?”

He shook his head, trying to remember that last thing that had happened to him. He had made camp outside some town… last night?

“How long have I been here?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Since last night. I’ve been here three days.” She tilted her head. “Well, I say three days. They’ve given me six meals, so I assume three days.”

He sighed. “Do you have any idea how much longer we’ll be here?”

She was quite for a moment. “I heard them say when they have their quota, or after a few more days. Couldn’t really tell you what either of those means.”

He nodded. “Who are you?” He asked.

“Arianne Martell,” she answered. “I’m a drifter. You?”

“Jon Snow, ex-ranger.”

The woman, Arianne, grinned. “Ranger, huh? Don’t tell them that, or you probably won’t even make it to the Fort.”

Jon grimaced. The Fort was infamous as the Legion’s main camp in the area, and for all the slaves that ended up there. An NCR ranger, even a former one, wouldn’t be wise to expect nice treatment.

“You got any ideas on how to get of here?” He asked.

Arianne shrugged. “A few, none I could do myself. But, seeing as I now have a ranger as my fellow captive, I can think of some things.”

Jon sat up a little straighter. “What did you have in mind?”

“I got a way with words,” Arianne explained. “When the guard comes in with food, I ask him real nicely to loosen my bindings, maybe slip me some extra food, and in exchange I make it worth his while.”

Jon felt his stomach churn. “You would let him-?”

“God, no!” She looked as appalled as he felt. “While he’s distracted, talking to me, you brain him from behind.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know, your boot?” She suggested.

Jon considered. It wouldn’t be too hard to get out of his bonds. Rangers spent a lot more time learning to get out of them than Caesar’s bastards spent learning to tie them, and his boots were solid, with steel toes. It wasn't a terrible plan.

He nodded. “Alright. Do you know how many there are?”

Arianne shook her head. “Ten, maybe a dozen, not quite sure. They aren’t very well armed.”

He drew a shaky breath. “Okay. I’ll free my hands, knock him out, take his weapons, then we can get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

  
Jon had just gotten the ropes off his ankles when they heard the doorknob rattle. He sat still, like he was still tied, when the legionary walked in.

He was small but well muscled, and his face was covered by an armoured mask. He had a crude machete and a handgun on his belt, and in his hands was small metal plate with the charred remains of a small animal.

Arianne cleared her throat. “Please, sir,” she began sweetly. “These ropes are just so tight,” she looked up at him with her great dark eyes. “If you would please loosen them for me, or bring me just a tiny bit of extra food, I would be so grateful.”

Jon couldn't tell how the legionary was taking it, but he wasn't even the target and he felt like he would give away his soul to ease this woman's pain.

He stood up silently, boot in hand, as he crept across the room. Arianne’s gaze never shifted from the legionary as Jon came up behind him. He swung hard, stunning the man.

The legionary’s helmet might have cushioned the blow, but it stunned him long enough for Jon to get his hands around his head and snap his neck. He hit the ground with a dull thud.

Arianne immediately went for something on his belt.

“Bastard took my .45,” she explained, taking the pistol and checking the ammo.

Jon nodded and took the legionary's machet from the sheath. “It won't be long before they realize something’s up,” he said. “Get the body, put it up against the wall on the other side of the door, and crouch behind it.”

“Why?”

“So that if they just start shooting this thing, we have some cover.”

Arianne nodded and started dragging the body as Jon knelt on the doors other side, machete in hand. It wasn't long before a gruff voice asked what the hold up was, then ordered someone to check.

Jon stayed perfectly still as he listened to the crunch of footsteps on gravel, and the door’s whine as it opened.

Jon waited until the legionary stepped inside before slashing at his calf, pulling him out of the doorway, and slitting his throat.

When he had the body propped up between him and the wall, and the dead man's old hunting rifle in hand, he glanced at Arianne.

“How good are you with that thing?” He asked, gesturing to the .45.

She gave him that crooked grin that he was already falling in love with. “Good enough. I trust you know to aim for the one with feathers on his helmet. He’s the boss, ain't he?”

Jon nodded. “Okay. I’ll start on the right, you start on the left. We’ll meet in the middle. Ready?”

“Ready.”

  
The next minute was a blur. Jon had the rifle to his shoulder as he opened the door, muscle memory taking over.

He downed the man farthest to the right, then another. By then they had scattered, and Jon moved back to cover. He glanced over and saw Arianne checking the ammo in her .45.

“You hit ‘em?” He grunted.

“Killed the boss, maybe wounded another. I guess five left?”

He nodded. “Same thing?”

“On three.”

  
The second time, he only got off one shot. Two legionaries were sprinting towards him machetes in hand, but he only got one. He was vaguely aware or Arianne, shooting off to his side. He had the second legionary lined up, but the gun didn’t go off. Before he could even check for a jam, the man was on him.

Arianne had pulled back, and Jon narrowly missed getting his head sliced off. He grabbed the arm holding the machete and pulled the man into the mobile home, wrestling as they hit the ground. The machete dropped, but then the legionary had his hands around Jon’s throat. Jon tried to push him off, but the impact with the floor had cause his head to go dizzy on him, and couldn’t fight back.

Then, all of a sudden, the grip around his neck went slack. Jon shoved the body off of him, and saw the machete sticking out of the back of its skull, Arianne standing over him.

They shared a look, a silent _thank you_ and a _don’t mention it_ , before rising again and grabbing their weapons.

“They won’t come to us anymore,” Arianne muttered.

Jon would have agreed, but his voice didn't work yet, so he could only grunt in agreement.

Arianne checked her pistol and grimaced. Should couldn’t have more than a few rounds left. Jon picked up the machete, ignoring the rifle. There was no time to fix it.

He slowly stuck his head out of the door, scanning for anything that moved. He saw nothing, and took tentative step out.

About twenty yards from the mobile home was a small campfire, surrounded by bags. He and Arianne dashed across the open ground, half expecting a shot to ring out, but nothing came.

The first thing Jon saw was his rifle, the ancient bolt action he’d used since he could walk. He picked it and checked it out. It was just the same as it had been before he’d been taken. It even had a round chambered.

He stood and did full rotation as Arianne tore threw the other things around the fire, likely looking for her own stolen possessions. As his eyes scanned the horizon, he saw a shape. A figure, running away, about three hundred yards. Even at that distance, he recognized the mismatched armor and crude decorations.

He fired without even having to think. The figure dropped.

  
He and Arianne spent the night at the camp, sleeping in shifts. When he woke, he heard a whimpering noise. It wasn’t human.

He rose unsteadily. Arianne was already sitting down to rest. Holding his rifle and a machete, he made his way over to the mobile home, where the noise was coming from. He heard rustling, and more whimpering from underneath.

He knelt down for a look, not really knowing what to expect.

But it certainly wasn’t an albino legion mongrel.

He jumped back in shock, but the dog didn’t move. Jon looked closer. The dog’s muzzle and paws were bound tightly.

He groaned to himself. “Fuck.” He took another step closer, and the dog began to growl, but once he was close enough, he began to stoke the dogs face softly, calming it. It’s red eyes met his.

  
“So why do you think he was tied up?”

Jon considered the question as he scratched the great dog behind his ears.

“Not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe he bit one of them, but they had other plans and didn’t want to kill ‘em yet.”

Arianne leaned over and rubbed the dog’s back. “Well, he seems to like you well enough. You gonna keep him?”

Jon shrugged. “If he follows me, sure. He’ll need a name I guess.”

Arianne tilted her head. “Ghost.” She said. “We’ll call him Ghost.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. _We?_ “So...where will you go?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I think I have a decent idea of where we are. There should be a town a few days west.”

“Need any company?”

Arianne smiled at him. “I would love some.” She pulled ghost close to her and gave him that crooked grin he was definitely falling in love with. “You can come too, if you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo, actual plot! I really like writing in this ‘verse.
> 
> I will not be taking any new prompts for awhile, so if you suggest them, don’t expect me to get to it any time soon unless I really like it. Sorry about it, but I’m way behind and just have too many things in progress to be productive. 
> 
> Criticism and feedback of all kinds welcome as always, and thank you for reading!


End file.
